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Right work

After all these years of writing as my job, you’d
think that the words would always come easily, that there wouldn’t be any more
hesitation, any more of the doubt and fear. But here I am, sitting in my
kitchen on a dark, Monday morning and taking on this new project. I can hear
the tree leaves rustling outside the window. The sound comes in waves like the
ocean and then recedes.I’ve been sitting for several minutes staring at the
blank, white screen in front of me, that familiar band of tightness in my gut.
All the regular excuses and worries come out to play.“No one is going to read this anyway.”“Who will ever find your blog?”“There are other writers doing this already … and
doing it better.”“Who are you to
think that you can do this?”Ah, that last one is a sure sign that I’m on the right
path. When my incredulous inner critic asks “who are you to …” or “who do you
think you are?” then I can be certain I’m doing the right work.That doesn’t make it easier, necessarily. In fact, it usually
makes it harder.Doing the “right work,” is very often doing the hard
work. The work that your soul craves, the work that Spirit asks of you. It’s
easier to do the other work—that work that feels good and logical and makes
sense (and maybe money) and doesn’t require a lot of your guts on display.But this is the work that won’t leave me alone. It
dogs my steps and inspires me, despite my efforts to remain immune to it. It
calls me in the middle of the night when I’m tossing and turning. It comes with
frustration and fear and lots and lots of self-doubt.I want to do the other work. The work that stays on
the surface of things, that is logical and teachable and can be backed up by
hard facts and experts and sometimes even science. But this is not that type of
work.Instead, this requires an adventurer’s heart, a
child’s belief system and the ability to delve deeply below the surface of life
and into its core. It’s messy (and I don’t really like messy) and complicated
and beautiful all in one.Join me?